


I Know

by King Boo Seungkwan (hottokokoa)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Pinyin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4418144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hottokokoa/pseuds/King%20Boo%20Seungkwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Junhui tells Minghao, they are lying, out-of-breath, on the cool wooden floor of the rehearsal room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Time

**Author's Note:**

> There’s not enough stories for these two. I thought I’d add my two cents. (I came up with the idea listening to Seungkwan and Seokmin’s cover of Monodrama. I cried.) I’m adding these in parts because I can’t be bothered to write all of it in one go.

The air is heavy with sweat and weighs down on the two boys resting on the cool wooden floor of the rehearsal space like a ton of bricks. Their chests rise and fall at an erratic pace as they struggle to catch their breaths, their hearts beating hard against their ribcages. The older boy is perched back on his palms, legs spread out over the other boy’s, who is lying on the ground, tracing patterns in the plastered ceiling with his eyes. Their muscles are past the point of aching, a tingling numbness spreading throughout their bodies.

 

They know without checking the clock hanging on the wall that it is late in the night. Minghao is almost too fatigued to wipe away the droplets of sweat that are gathering on his brow, but gives in when it threatens to fall in his eyes, bringing a tired arm up to his face. Junhui’s arms give out and he joins his friend’s position on the ground with a soft thud. He winces as his back hits the floor, but welcomes the cold of the polished wood through his thin shirt.

 

The two Chinese boys stay like this for what seems like an eternity, their labored breathing the only sound filling the room. The silence between them is comfortable; they are at ease just being together. Inhaling, exhaling, together. Junhui clenches his jaw through the pain, reaching for Minghao’s hand, fingers crawling toward his, inching closer and closer. They link their pinkies, and then move to intertwine their fingers. Junhui can’t help but notice how perfect their hands fit together, how soft Minghao’s skin is when he begins to rub his thumb over it, and his frantic heart slows its pace.

 

The older boy closes his eyes, licks his parched lips, focuses on their hands. Minghao’s breath hitches in his throat at his friend’s gentle touch, and he tries to swallow despite his dry mouth. This is a side of Jun that the younger boy does not bear witness to often, and he wants to soak it all in before it leaves once more. Minghao knows he’s special. He knows that this Jun is only for him.

 

Junhui is the first to pull away. The warmth from their hands is enough to drive him insane, and he knows that if they stay like that any longer, they’ll never want to part. And so, he curls his fingers around the base of Minghao’s hand and gives it a small squeeze, and then unlinks their fingers with great hesitation. He places his palms on either side of his body and pushes down on the floor to lift himself up, all but groaning as his arms protest in agony. He peels himself from the ground a moment later, after regaining what little strength he has, and swirls around to Minghao, arm outstretched, to find that he has found the will to pull himself up, as well.

 

They are quiet as they gather their things from beside the mirrored wall, slinging their bags across their shoulders, taking quick chugs of their water bottles. Minghao is slow in his movements, Junhui notices, and raises an eyebrow only to be met with a weak smile. He feels as his legs wobble like they are made of jello, and he wonders whether it’s because they are sore, or because Minghao looks so beautiful even when they are both exhausted and worn. 

 

“Wǒ xǐhuān nǐ,” Junhui breathes, and he does not catch what he is saying until the words are already out of his mouth and hanging in the air around them. He watches Minghao’s face for any distortion or unease from his words, but is met only with a slight nod of the head. Jun bites his bottom lip.  
  
  
“Wǒ zhīdào.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jun said, “I like you.” Minghao replies with, “I know.”


	2. Second Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moon is high in the sky and the boys are fast asleep in their dorm the second time Junhui tells Minghao.

The dorm is pitch black and quiet, save for the soft snoring of the sleeping members and Junhui’s loud thoughts that keep him from making peace with his bed. He does not know what time it is, nor does he wish to know; he just wants to fall asleep. His eyelids are heavy and sore, and his head is throbbing from exhaustion. He turns on his side, facing the wall, away from the boy next to him, and curls into himself. The mattress below him groans with his movement and he pauses for a moment, stiff as a board, letting the silence settle over the room once more, before he relaxes himself.

 

He waits for sleep to take him, waits in agonizing darkness, and he cannot tell if his eyes are shut. He bites the inside of his cheek, whispers profanities under his breath, and throws his head back onto his pillow. All he can think of is Minghao. Minghao, Minghao, Minghao. It is weeks after his confession, after their shared moment in the rehearsal space, and he cannot get his friend off of his mind. Sleep is something of a fairytale to him, now;  something he dreams of but will never come.

 

The body laying next to him shifts and brings him from his thoughts. Junhui holds his breath, afraid. Afraid that somehow, Minghao knows. Afraid that he’s disgusted with him. His stomach churns at the possibility that Minghao hates him, or thinks differently of him. Since that night, the younger boy has remained as close to him as he was before; they still joke and play around, and Junhui still lingers with his subtle touches. Minghao still confides in him, still smiles at him with his eyes. Jun’s fear is based on nothing but his own insecurity, he knows, but his abdomen knots just as well. He clenches his jaw, attempting to focus on his grinding teeth.

 

“ _Are you awake?_ ” Minghao is the first to break the lull, slurring his words together in his tired state. Although he cannot see anything in the dark, he twists his head toward Junhui, biting down on his lip. He rubs at his eyes, brushing away the crust at the corners, and blinks once, twice for good measure. The older boy considers feigning sleep; he wants to avoid this -- whatever this is.

 

“ _I’m awake,_ ” his conscious gets the best of him at last. His voice is coarse and rough on his throat. Minghao huffs, though he is not so much annoyed as he is worried, Junhui can tell. The older boy turns his body to face his friend, feeling around the blankets for his hand. He clears his throat, and Minghao clasps his fingers around the rustling in the covers, wraps them around and inbetween Junhui’s like he is desperate for the touch.

 

Junhui feels the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders as his skin meets the younger’s, and he realizes just how much he craved this simple affection. Minghao is there.

 

“ _I will never leave you,_ ” and Junhui means it with every fiber of his being. The corners of Minghao’s lips curl upward in a smile, and even if the older boy cannot _see_ it, he knows it is there.

 

“ _I know.”_

  
Junhui sleeps peacefully that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their dialogue is in italics because it’s being exchanged ‘in Korean,’ but for the sake of actually being able to understand the story, it’s English. Yeah.
> 
> Okay, so the bed arrangement I have in mind is the one in Good Morning? Like, the bunkbeds next to each other? Jun and Minghao aren’t sharing a bed, I just wanted to clear that up.


	3. Third Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are walking down the street, bellies full, arms interlocked, the third time Junhui tells Minghao.

Junhui recalls the bustling streets of Shenzhen with fond memories. In the daytime, the doors of the street shops were wide open, and walking by, you could smell the sweet fragrances wafting out of the stores. At night, the city was alive, with neon lights and tall, glowing billboards and banners. People of all ages littered the narrow back-streets and sidewalks, the incredible traffic congestion leaving cars backed up for miles. Walking was the most convenient way to get anywhere. He loved everything about it.

 

Seoul is a different world. There are street shops and food stalls and tall buildings with flashing neon lights, just like his hometown, but there is a difference. Junhui can’t put his finger on it. People, young and old, walk the sidewalks and the back-streets in small crowds and masses, wearing business suits and graphic shirts. But it’s not the same. He reasons it’s the language -- that no matter how well he speaks Korean, it will always be foreign to him. That when he’s walking along and reads the hangul on the shop signs or hears the passersby carrying their conversations, he feels uneasy. He expects home, when home is nowhere to be found.

 

So when Minghao and Junhui are walking together after stopping for lunch, the older of the two is comfortable at last. After much persuasion, Junhui links his arm with his friend, brushing off the looks from older civilians as they pass by them. Minghao flushes red when he catches someone staring, and turns his head away without a second thought. But he never pulls away. And although Junhui is thankful, he laughs hard at the blush on the younger boy’s cheeks.

 

He reaches over to poke Minghao on the side of the face, teasing him for being so shy in public, when he knows his own face is heating up at the sight of the boy’s pout. Minghao is quick to wave his hand away, rubbing the spot where he was touched. Without even making contact, he can feel the heat radiating from his skin, and he nudges Junhui in the side in fun. The older boy knows he’s won, won whatever game they were playing, if it could be called a game. He smiles a wide, toothy grin, and casts it at Minghao. His eyes move with his lips, and the corners wrinkle as they squint.

 

Minghao stutters in awe, his ears burning pink, at his friend. He has to remind himself to keep walking forward, or else they would be trampled, but he so wants to stop. To stop and take it all in, how wonderful Junhui is, how he’s shining brighter than any of the street lights or signs around them. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, and his heart is picking up speed in his chest, pounding faster and faster with every moment he stares at Junhui.

 

It’s over all too soon, and Jun is left to wonder why Minghao is such a bumbling, flustered mess. The younger boy turns his head in the other direction and tries to calm himself, to distract himself with window displays and vibrant posters. Junhui stuffs his vacant hand into his jean pocket and tightens his hold of his friend’s arm, pulling him closer. Minghao shakes his head, refuses to make eye contact, but the older boy pays no mind.

 

“ _You’re my favourite,_ ” Junhui smirks into Minghao’s ear, he can feel him jump under him, at his breathing down his neck. The boy hums in response, glances over at his friend and softens his gaze. They communicate no further for the rest of their trek, but Jun understands what Minghao really means to say. ‘ _I know._ ’

 

Both of them walk with a skip in their step.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one definitely wasn’t based on Jun’s 24 hour cam. Nope. :^)
> 
> Only one chapter left!


	4. Fourth Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minghao is full of surprises the fourth time Junhui tells him.

Minghao is crying. He is crying into Junhui, whose arms are wrapped tight around the younger boy’s small frame. One hand strokes his back in a circular motion, and even under his layers of clothing, Junhui can make out the bones of his vertebrae with ease. His other hand is tangled in his hair, a slight grip on the back of his neck for support. He is shushing him, pressing his shaking figure into his body, brushing his lips on the top of his head. Minghao rests his cheek on the other boy’s shoulder, feels the warm tears trailing down his face, how they weld up in his eyes -- hot and blinding -- until he blinks them away. His fingers curl around the hem of Jun’s shirt, tight and trembling like they are the epicenter of a massive earthquake.

 

He tries to swallow his sobs, but chokes instead, and Junhui’s heart shatters into a million pieces, sinks to the pit of his stomach. His eyes mist over, and he clenches his jaw because he needs to be the strong one for Minghao; he _has_ to be strong. The younger boy’s lip is quivering, and quivers still when he bites down, and he his entire being is numb. He feels nothing as his teeth split the skin of his lip, or as the taste of iron fills his mouth. Junhui finds it hard to breathe as he wipes away the blood and saliva and searing teardrops that stream down Minghao’s face -- he struggles for air like he’s been knocked in the side.

 

Minghao is hyperventilating, and mucus and spit trickles down his rough throat, and it feels like it’s closing up. Junhui can’t find his voice, and even if he could speak up, he doesn’t know what he’d say. He mouths empty words into Minghao, ‘ _It’s okay, everything will be okay,_ ’ but he can’t even convince himself. The grip on the back of his neck tightens, his thumb massaging the skin behind his ear, and Minghao buries his face into Junhui’s shoulder. He is only a child. He is a child, and the pressure is too much for him to bear.

 

An eternity passes and Minghao is still in his arms, and the violent sobbing has died down, but Junhui is still on edge. The younger boy is limp, his knees weak and threatening to give out under him. His face is red and stained and damp with tears, his eyes puffy and clouded, and the other boy can only look at him for a moment before he feels like he’s going to be sick. He rests his chin on his head, letting the hand on his back fall to Minghao’s waist, and lets out a shaky breath to calm his nerves. There’s a nagging in the back of his mind, _this is all your fault_. And he wants to ignore it. But it rings in his ears, over and over and over, and a part of him can’t help but believe it. He closes his eyes, furrows his brow, tries to shake the voice in his head. Minghao sniffles, and a pang shoots through Junhui’s chest.

 

The hands that were previously toying with the bottom of his shirt clasp behind him, resting on his lower back, and Minghao folds into the older boy. His guilt subsides, and Junhui cherishes him, hugs him closer to his chest, doesn’t care if he can hear how wild his heart is pumping, and Minghao gives one last squeeze before he stumbles. He catches him, lets him lean on him, drapes his arm around his shoulders. He is a child, and he is exhausted.

 

He leads Minghao to his bed, and pulls back the blankets so he can climb in. His eyelids are drooping low, and he is almost too worn to swing his legs onto the mattress, but manages as Junhui tucks him in. The older boy squats down on the floor next to Minghao, reaches for his head. He runs his fingers through his hair, curling it around his finger, brushing it back, tucking it behind his ear, and Minghao hums in content. His hands are cool against his burning skin, and he wishes Junhui would never stop.

 

“ _Minghao-yah,_ ” Junhui whispers, inching closer to the boy’s face, and Minghao can feel his breath on him, can feel the goosebumps forming wherever it hits his skin. The older boy shakes his head, “Mínghào-dì,” and everything is right, and his head is swimming with everything he wants to say.

 

“Jùnhuī-gē,” Minghao cuts in, his voice soft and airy. He opens his eyes only just, enough to look at Junhui, and the older boy meets his gaze, smiling down at him. “Wǒ ài nǐ shèngguò yíqiè.”

 

Junhui leans all the way in, closing the gap between them. He presses his lips to Minghao’s, cups his cheek in his hand, and kisses him. Kisses him with everything he has, with all of the emotions he’d tried to suppress, and Minghao kisses him back. And their lips feel like they were made for each other’s, mold together like two fitting puzzle pieces. There are fireworks and they’re seeing stars, and it’s perfect.

 

The younger boy falls asleep soon after Junhui pulls away, and he notices how wonderful he looks, outlined in the moonlight. He doesn’t want this moment to end. And he swears that if he died and went to Heaven, he’d relive this scene till the end of time.

 

Junhui kisses his forehead once more before he leaves, breathes, “ _I love you._ ”

  
But Minghao already knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this and comment. It really does mean so much to me.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
